Hetalia Drabbles
by ResistanceBlade
Summary: Barricading, coffee, white flags, nail-painting, China beating the Axis with a pot and spoon? Why, this is speculated to be Hetalia! A few troll drabble stories.   One-shot.


**Hey, wrote this collection of stories for Hetalia (awesome show, am I right?) I'd like to give credit to my friend Miranda for helping me come up with some of the ideas, although I used my writing skills to make it come alive (not literally...but that would be sweet). Italy, if you would do the honors.**

**Italy: ResistanceBlade does-a not own Hetalia, and does-a not wish to, as the person who-a does own it has been doing a great-a job ve~.**

A blonde man clad in green picked up his full cup and sipped daintily. He enjoyed the silence, along with the occasional chirps from the robins outside the opened window. His green eyes scanned his newspaper, searching for an interesting headline to read.

"Rubbish…..this is all American politics….what is the American government doing, anyways? I knew America couldn't handle himself….that wanker….."

Nonetheless, he still tried to enjoy himself despite the reading material. Emerald eyes looked outside the hotel's window as he reminisced in the past events…..he was, however, supposed to be at the World Summit Meeting in a few hours.

He heard screams from what seemed to be at the end of the hallway. He sighed heavily, his palm touching his forehead.

"Dear God….these bloody Americans are so noisy! I can't try to enjoy myself with all this din going on!"

He then heard a familiar, muffled voice coming from outside his door. "Sorry, dude! Just trying to find my room!"

Another exhale of air escaped his lips. His large eyebrows creased together, his mouth in a tight frown.

The muffled voice seemed closer. "Ah….sorry, ma'am! Didn't mean to scare ya lik-hey….HEY ….DON'T HIT ME! NOBODY CAN HURT THE HERO! OW, STOP! YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

'_Hero'?_

"America…" he hissed.

England scurried towards the entrance, bolting it shut and trying to barricade it with objects in the room.

_I still have a few hours to myself….that idiot won't ruin it! I don't have to see his face….until the Summit Meeting, that is…._

He shoved a chair between the table and dresser already placed in front of the wood. When a few more objects were shoved before it, Arthur wiped his hands and the sweat forming on his brow.

_Let's see him try to get in now!_

Loud footsteps could be heard. The door knob was being turned wildly. England laughed.

_Sorry…..you're not getting in here today...bloody wanker!_

The hinges broke suddenly. The English man's eyes widened, complete shock written on his face.

_What….?_

The wood splintered. Chunks of the material flew in different directions throughout the room. The objects that were placed so cleverly to block the entryway were shoved aside like mere toys as a man in a brown jacket barged into the room. England sweat-dropped, his skin as white as a sheet.

"Hey, England…..I dunno what happened….I guess your door was locked. Aw well…hey, I brought you some Starbucks!"

"H-h….h-how?" he stuttered, a hand raised near his head.

A cup full of a steaming liquid was shoved towards him.

"Here!"

"Wh-at…."

"It's coffee! Went all the way to Starbucks to get it!"

"Coffee? I won't drink something so…..undignified! I have my tea, thank you very much!"

"What, you don't drink coffee? You English don't know how to have fun!"

"Fun? Of course we do! Just not in uncivil and surely illegal ways like you Americans!"

"What? Our fun is fine! And for you not liking coffee….well, you Brits just have no sense of taste!"

"What? Of course we do….we just don't stuff our faces with fattening, greasy foods such as hamburgers!"

"Well….at least it tastes good! I mean….what is it with you and those tasteless scones, man?"

And well…..let's just say that their argument lasted the time remaining before the World Summit Meeting…

* * *

><p>North Italy was up in his room, attempting to prepare for the British attack. He searched frantically, but no white cloth could be found.<p>

_Oh-a no! I've'a used up all the'a white cloth! Romano is'a going to be so'a pissed at me!_

He went into his closest, but had no white clothes that would be suitable for his symbol of surrender. He began to grow extremely anxious and nervous, his hands trembling as his fingers searched. He saw a cup of white water color paint, and his happy attitude returned.

_Yeah! Now all I-a need to is-a-_

He tripped, the cup flying out of his hands, and splashing to the ground.

"No!"

He tried to touch the paint, but it was beginning to dry up.

"I-a better go apologize to-a my brother!"

Running down the stairs, he spotted his darker-brown haired sibling sitting on the couch in front of the television.

"Ah…..Romano! I'm-a sorry…..I-a couldn't make-a any white flags! I-a had some paint but I-a spilled it, please-a don't be mad-a with me!"

"What?" he seethed, standing up from the couch, murder in his eyes.

"Brother….?"

His hands enclosed around Italy's throat, closing his airway. The Italian made chocking noises as both were shoved to the floor.

"You-a idiot! Now-a they'll kill us-a for sure!"

His hold lightened a bit, but Italy still couldn't escape.

"Please-a….Romano…..Germany will-a save us, ve~!"

"No! Not that damn potato-eater!"

Both lay stock still as footsteps entered the household.

"I-a bet it's those Brits!" Romano whispered, although rather harshly.

"Vhat are you two doing?" asked an irritated Germany, his hands at his sides. He was dressed in his war uniform. "Vhy are you chocking Italy?"

"I'm-a not choking him…." Italy's face, however, begged to differ.

"Stop this right now! We vill be battling the British soon and you two should be ready for action!"

"But-a Germany," began North Italy, finally free of Romano's hold as he sat up, "I-a have no material to-a make white flags!"

Germany faced-palmed, his irritation clearly magnified. "Vhat did I say about giving up to your enemy like that? We vill fight against them, not surrender!"

"But Germany! I-a don't want to-a fight!"

The German's eyebrows creased, his hand under his chin in thought.

"If you do fight, I'll make you pasta."

Both Italians ran outside and got guns and grenades as the British came closer.

In the end, neither used them right, so it really didn't matter whether they fought or not.

* * *

><p>In a certain Austrian's home, Prussia was (awesomely) snooping about, looking for an object that was entertaining, but finding none.<p>

"It's all a bunch of stupid instruments! There is _nothing_ to do here!"

His feet eventually lead him in a spacious room, and in the far corner was a black grand piano.

He suddenly had an (awesome) idea.

_Of course! I could rearrange the cords and piss him off!_

He ran to the end of the piano, opened it, and began his delicate surgery…..

**A while later….**

The cords lay all around the room, and Prussia had no clue how to put them back again. Many lay broken or torn, and even more were tangled.

"This awesome plan I had was ruined by the piano! Maybe this isn't awesome enough to be one of my pranks….."

Footsteps were heard down the hall, magnifying in sound as the owner came closer.

"Well, can't fix it now…"

Austria opened the door, and was greeted with a (very) broken piano, and a sweat-dropping Prussia.

"What? What happened here? What did you do to my beautiful piano?"

"I was bored so I decided to mess with you!"

"If you were bored, why didn't you just hang out at your own house?"

The Prussian was silent as he walked out the door.

* * *

><p>The Axis Powers sat around a campfire, Italy lightly snoring on the sand. Germany poked the fire lightly with a stick while Japan stared at the flames peacefully crackling, emanating an orange glow. All seemed quiet, until Germany heard loud footsteps, that is.<p>

"Here they come!" he declared, both he and Japan rising, their jackets slumping to the floor. The German took out his pistol while the Japanese man unsheathed his sword. Italy grunted as he swung his white flag rapidly.

Looking at the top of the cliff, the three could see the Allies, America in the middle.

"This is me in my hero voice saying: China, I choose you!"

Sure enough, the Chinese man jumped from the top of the cliff, landing before Germany. He swung his pot and spoon, eventually smacking both he and Japan. Italy held his white flag up in defense.

"Oh-a please don't-a hit me! I'm-a fragile! Here is-a my white flag, see? I-a surrender! I-a surrender! I-a have friends in-"

Suddenly, over the ocean in the background, a pink boat sailed closer in view. A bejeweled version of the Polish flag was on the side, and on the deck were two chairs that sat Poland and Sealand. Lithuania was off to the side, holding a mug full of coffee.

"Uh, Sir? Can you take your coffee now?" asked Lithuania, holding the cup towards the Polish man.

"What? Like, no! I'm trying to, like, paint Sealand's nails!"

"Uh, Poland," began the young boy, "are you sure this is Ok? To paint my nails pink, I mean."

"What? Like, yeah…..what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing…."

"Well, then hold out your hand!"

The sailor-clad boy put his hand on the table as Poland brushed the paint over his once-bare nails.

"Ha-ha….." said America, "I'm as highly influenced as that kid over there! Run away!"

And with that, the great Allies retreated.

**America: Reviews are greatly appreciated...and by the way, _I'm_ the hero!**


End file.
